


Opinion's Fact

by Bored_Panda



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bored_Panda/pseuds/Bored_Panda
Summary: Her opinion had been a fact. At least to John Watson.





	Opinion's Fact

**Author's Note:**

> Johnlockers, proceed with caution, you have been warned.
> 
> For Camille. Who is as brilliant as ever. And for me, because this is to me like cake is to Mycroft.
> 
> (Haven't read over this, so spelling mistakes, grammar, anything, point it out. Thanks!)

And sherlock keeps trying to talk to him, be his friend. Why? Because he was the only person to ever breathe, "amazing," under his breath at a reaction to the detective's deductions. Trying to talk turns into stalking, each location that John makes, each person he talks to, exactly where he would be at each time. Why will John talk to them? Not him? He asks Mycroft. And Molly. And everyone else who doesn't hate him. He asks why John hates him. He supposes, that he's just a Freak and that John can see it clearly. And yet, Sherlock can't stop. Sending flowers to his work, a muffin and tea to his door on an especially chilly morning. Eventually, it turns into clothes. Then expensive watches. One day, Sherlock thinks, to himself, to Billy. He thinks and thinks. And he decides.  
  
He sends a ring to John's door, only he's there to deliver it, a grin on his face, dimples and chins showing as he proudly holds out the box to the man, himself being too nervous to get down on a knee. He does so anyways, awkward, lanky limbs folding. He looks up at John, who looks down in love.  
  
"I love you, John Watson. I've felt undeniable sentiment towards you since you breathed your first word to me."  
  
"I... I only said one word to you, and that was... three years ago."  
  
"And it was the most beautiful word in the world, John."  
  
John looks at him, long and hard and after a long, long while, he opens his mouth again, something bright and hot shining in his eyes.  
  
"//Freak.//"  
  
The bright and hot thing isn't love, Sherlock realizes. It's hatred. For the Freak. The detective flinches before standing, his cheeks flushing a bright red as he fumbles and mumbles, apologizing, making excuse.  
  
Begging. He begs not once, not twice, but as many times as he can muster, embarrassment high on his face, which has a sheen layer of sweat and small droplets of water at the corners of his eyes. Sherlock does not know what the those are, he does not understand. They start to fall. John shouts. Sherlock begs. The door slams shut and Sherlock stares at it. Hopes. That it will open. But it does not.  
  
He walks, starts walking back. Back where? He does not know at all. But he does know that he does not make it, because in seconds, he find himself on his back, a loud, sharp sound of a //crack// radiating in his skull. "John!" He cries his cry for help. "John!??!" His voice is panicked. He needs his John, even though he does not want the Freak. Sherlock feels his body drain, life flowing out of his heart and head. John Watson. He had taken his heart... and now, his mind. The only two things that had mattered to Sherlock, the man had taken. Sherlock takes in a stuttering breath.  
  
His eyes blink once, twice, and then, nevermore.


End file.
